The Dragon Throne
by ValyrianHope
Summary: Jon and Daenerys' stories continue as we travel back to Essos. Will the Dragon Queen begin a new reign? What will happen when she is reunited with the mistakes of the past?
1. The King Beyond the Wall

_Hi everyone! This story grew from my need to see the story in Season 8 continue, and to explore more of what that ending meant for some of our characters. I am not completely sold on the title just yet, but it's something for now. This is my first upload on here and I am so appreciative of everyone who takes the time to read and comment. Thank you! Hope you enjoy._

_This takes place after the events of the final episode. _

Chapter 1: The King Beyond the Wall

Jon shivered as he watched the snow fall outside of his tent. The darkening sky made the snow glimmer like silver as it fell. It reminded him of the snow, or was it ash? or a mix of both? that fell that day in the Red Keep. That day…

The shimmer of the snow reminded him so much of the silver of her hair. His Targaryen Queen. "You are my queen, now and always" the words he said that day echoed in his mind and in his heart every night. And every night he felt that familiar pang of regret and confusion. He had done his duty. It was necessary. What he needed to do to save the realm. But was it the right choice? It did not feel right. Even now. "_Duty is the death of love"_.

The ghosts of his past visited him often. Even in his dreams he could see her, feel her embrace, her kiss, feel the blazing warmth she brought to his icy heart, even in that moment when he pierced hers. The dagger blade piercing her heart played over and over in his dreams. It felt so vivid that he often roused from his sleep shaking, expecting to hear Drogon's deafening roar as he looked down at his mother's lifeless body. But each time he was greeted by nothing but the lull of sleeping sounds coming from the surrounding tents of the other Wildlings and the even louder snoring of Tormund, who shared Jon's tent. Tormund Giantsbane had grown accustomed to these night terrors. When he first learned of Jon's actions, he greeted the news with a guffaw of laughter saying that he was surprised Jon had the balls to do it. When his reaction was met with Jon's sad eyes and icy glare, Tormund put a hand on Jon's shoulder and his face went solemn. No other words were exchanged about it after that, but Jon felt that Tormund, who had become like his Hand, understood his plight.

He looked out at his camp as they prepared to settle in for the night. With a group of about 70 Wildlings, he was the King Beyond the Wall now. Not the Targaryen King he was meant to be. I don't know how to be a Targaryen, I have been a Stark all my life. But still, the blood that ran in his veins was the blood of the dragon and of the wolf. He had grown used to the guilt that crept in. I am a kinslayer. Even worse, I killed the last Targaryen, the last dragon, my queen…my love.

In the days after leaving Castle Black, he had a lot of time to think. He would think about the Targaryen kings and queens of the past, married willingly even though they were kin by blood. It was a custom not accepted in the North and many places, but for the Targaryens of Old Valyria who held the magical blood of dragons, he wondered if it sometimes caused their love to burn brighter, stronger, and difficult to extinguish. It was accepted in their bloodline, in their history, and a small part of him had started to accept it as well. He never spoke it aloud, but he knew the truth; it was his history as well. He pondered about how his love for Daenerys grew so quickly and how it endured so strongly even after she was gone. He had only felt love one other time and he was grateful for Ygritte. Without her, he wouldn't have known what it felt like. You had to feel it to know. Now, he knew.

The sky was gray and the winds blew strongly the next morning. As the Wildling Camp gathered their tents to continue on their journey, a rider from Castle Black caught up with them. Jon greeted the man and asked what brought him here. "A raven from Winterfell arrived for you at Castle Black, my lord," the young crow said. He handed him a piece of rolled parchment with a thick black seal, bearing the sigil of House Stark. He had not thought of Sansa in a while. In truth, he had not fully forgiven her betrayal. And he knew she knew it. She would often send him ravens asking him to come back to Castle Black, that she wished to visit him, pleading for chances to make up for her wrongs. Each time her wrote back that he was fine, he wished her well, and that the past has already been forgotten. He unrolled the parchment to read her message:

_Jon, It has been some time and I hope you are faring well beyond the Wall. I won't ask you again to come back to Castle Black for me, but perhaps what I have to tell you will bring you back. King Bran has been trying to use his sight to find Drogon and he has succeeded. The King has news and wishes to speak with you. Please come to Winterfell, dear brother. If not for me, for what this could mean._

_Always your sister,_

_Sansa Stark, Queen in the North_

It was only then that Jon realized he felt dizzy. His knees buckled and he swayed, but he caught himself. He struggled to catch his breath as a million thoughts darted through his mind. _What could this mean? Could Daenerys be alive? I must go to her. _The thought snapped him back to where he stood. The wind howled furiously as a flurry began to fall. He turned to Tormund who had appeared next to him.

"We ride for Winterfell."


	2. A Queen Remembers

_A/N: Sorry it took me so long to get Chapter 2 up! I have been working on some other things outside of fan fiction, but anyway, here is Chapter 2. I really struggled with Dany's decision to slaughter the people of King's Landing. There really is no way to fully justify it and I wish the show hadn't gone that route, but here we are. Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read it, and thank you to those who provided feedback for the first chapter! Hope you enjoy!_

Chapter 2: A Queen Remembers

_You are blood of the dragon._

Those words had taken on a new meaning for Dany. She knew she had always felt a connection with her dragons, but this felt deeper. She remembered the Great War. That night on the snowy battlefield at Winterfell, when she was left alone after falling off Drogon's back. She watched Ser Jorah defend her from the dead with his life. Ultimately giving his life so she might live. When she wept over him as he took his last breath, she held his unmoving body, and Drogon swooped down behind her to cradle them both around his enormous wings. Her ferocious child seemed to weep beside her, feeling her grief as if it was his own. If there was ever a question about it before, she knew for certain now. He had felt her agony from losing Jorah, losing Viseryon, Rhaegal, and Missandei. As she felt the sting of the betrayal from Lord Varys and her former Hand Tyrion, so had he felt it. Most notably, he felt her rage as all she had worked for- all she had ever known all her life fell apart before her eyes as the bells at King's Landing rang all around them. Before she could temper her fury, her child lifted off of the bell tower and there was no stopping it. She knew it was because of her, but it was too late. He had felt it as well and the chaos that followed was undeniable. She was blood of the dragon and Drogon was blood of her blood. She danced in the chasm between the greatness and madness that was rumored of her bloodline and she fell headfirst into the wrong side.

_But you have a gentle heart…_ Dear Ser Jorah's words. As she stood before the Iron Throne, she could not help but recall the words of her brave warrior. How she wished he was by her side now. She had given into the madness, but she knew she was not mad. The losses she had suffered felt greater than any of the triumphs she ever experienced, even this one. She knew what she had done was unforgivable, but what could she do now? They would surely kill Drogon, however way they could. She had no love left here, no matter how much she had given to Westeros, the great sacrifices she had made; her children, her men, marching her army to the North instead of King's Landing to save them from the Night King and his army, it would never be enough. All she had left was fear. Fear, an all too familiar friend to her. She had always felt its presence. When she lived in exile as a child with Viserys' cruelty, when she was sold off as a bride to Khal Drogo, when she searched for her dragons in the House of the Undying, when she was brought to Vaes Dothrak before the remaining Khals, when she watched the army of the dead swarm the ice as she urged Jon to get on Drogon's back as the Night King readied his spear. Even in the moment of surrender, as the bells rang, through the vastness of her rage, she could feel fear. Fear for her safety, fear for her last child, now that people knew of Jon's true lineage, even when she knew he would never truly accept that he was Aegon Targaryen VI, what would become of her and Drogon? There was no place for them here. Fear had followed her all her days and when she looked out over the destruction she caused; she knew fear was all she had with her.

"_You are my Queen, now and always."_

Jon's words echoed in her mind as they pulled together in a passionate kiss. Surrounded by the ruins of the Red Keep, Dany needed to hear those words. As if hearing them could erase the gnawing of the guilt in her heart. Maybe fear was not all she had left, maybe there was one person who could still love her… Her eyes widened as she felt a searing pain spread across her chest. She looked down to see the dagger lodged into her heart. She looked into Jon's tearful eyes, her own eyes swarming with tears. Every breath was more painful than the last. She could feel her strength leaving her as she struggled to stand. The world faded away, her vision dissolving to black. She thought she felt him catch her and her last thought echoed into the darkness. _It was only fear, after all._

* * *

__Light flooded her vision as she sat up gasping for breath. Dany felt dizzy, numb, and freezing cold. Her body quivered with chill against her will, despite the towering sconces hanging from the ceiling, blazing with light and fire. She realized she was on a stone table, covered by soft sheets and a small pillow where her head had rested. She gazed down at the man and woman kneeling beside the table. It was just now that she began to take in the scenery around her. Half a dozen women knelt around the vast room, clothed in red gowns with long billowing sleeves. There were warriors there as well, all knelt behind the man closest to her. She wrapped her arms around herself and realized that she was naked, save for a thin linen skirt covering her lower half. She saw a dark vertical scar on her chest along the side of her breast. She touched it lightly and shuddered as a wave of pain shot through her. Her eyes flickered with confusion and fear. "What- what is this?" she heard herself say. The kneeling man and woman raised their heads to look at her. Their faces felt familiar but for some reason she could not recall their names. They stood and the woman wrapped a supple silk robe around Dany's body.

"You've returned to Mereen, my Queen," Daario said softly. "The red priestess, Kinvara has—um, returned you to us." Dany could see affection in the man's eyes.

"_Revived_ you, my Queen," Kinvara corrected, stepping in front of Dany once again. "I am Kinvara. I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before, your Grace, but I did meet with your Hand, Lord Tyrion and your advisor, Lord Varys. Your dragon brought you here, to the Great Pyramid. We heard the cries of your dragon, full of sorrow and heard the beating of his wings. We heard the cries of the people outside bowing and kneeling, pointing to the top of the pyramid where the creature had perched singing his mournful song. We found you on the main balcony of the Great Hall, as she said we would."

Dany took a moment to process the information divulged to her. Her head was swimming with fractured memories and broken thoughts. The screaming of the people of King's Landing as she rained fire and blood over them. She shook her head at the thought, desperately willing herself to put aside the guilt and torment she felt over it. It did not work, she felt almost sick. But she had to know why she was back here. She was indeed in Mereen. The last thing she could remember was her standing in the Red Keep dying… and then darkness. "How can this be? I was…I was…dead…killed…by Jon," she whispered that last part, heavy heartedly. She saw Daario's body tense up at those words, seemingly hearing her. Then what Kinvara said struck her like an arrow to the chest. Dany turned to Kinvara. "As _she_ said you would? Who is she? What are you talking about?"

Kinvara paused. "Perhaps we should get you settled first, your Grace. Then I will tell you all that you wish to know," she said. "Please Lady Kinvara, I beg you. You cannot begin to know what I have been through. Please tell me," Dany pleaded.

Kinvara gave her a small, sad smile. "But I already know, your Grace. She told us you would be betrayed. That your mercy would fail you in your time of greatest need. She told us to watch for your return upon your dragon, and urged me to be ready to do what was needed. She saw it all in a great fire when she returned to Volantis. Despite knowing that she had to die in Westeros, she was ready to spend the rest of her life here in Essos. But the Lord of Light was not finished with her yet and what she saw in the fire was proof enough. Before leaving to return to Westeros where she was needed for "The Great War", as she called it, she found me and we traveled together here to Mereen. She advised me to remain here, and Daario Naharis welcomed me into the Great Pyramid once I explained to him what she had seen. She, your Grace, was the Lady Melisandre."

* * *

"So you brought me back? From the dead?" Dany's voice shook as she walked slowly to the Great Hall. When she heard the story of Melisandre's journey, she was glad she had chosen to settle in. After a bath, her handmaidens braided her silver hair and had dressed her in a light silk gown in the colors of the crimson and gold, placing a light gold chain of a three headed dragon around her waist. They carefully concealed the scar on her chest with a sash of the light fabric of the gown. She winced in pain every time it was touched, even barely. She had only known of one other person who had been through this experience before. She tried hard not to think of him. When she did, a mix of emotions of anger, betrayal, and loss stirred within her. So, she chose to ask questions instead. They urged ger to rest, but she was simply filled with too much excitement to sleep. She was tired though, and knew she'd better not overdo it.

Kinvara nodded. "That is what Lady Melisandre meant when she said "what needed to be done", I know it. Whatever your purpose is, it has not been fulfilled yet, your Grace. It has brought you back home. Here, in Mereen. And the people have not chosen any new rulers since you left. They chose instead to await your return. I believe they somehow knew that the great city needed the Dragon Queen to return to her throne, the Dragon Throne." They entered the Great Hall and atop the steps was a beautiful throne carved into the semblance of three dragons coiled around the huge chair. It looked to be made of dragonglass itself, smooth, shiny and shimmering in the glow of the lanterns. Dragon heads adorned each of the arm rests and the highest point of the chair forming a sort of triangle. Their bodies joined together to make the back and seat of the chair. The one on the left was pale gold with pearls set into the eyes, the one on the right was a golden bronze with emeralds set into the eyes, and on the back of the chair, black dragon wings stretched out, the edges lined with rubies, pearls, and emeralds leading to the last dragon head staring back at Daenerys. The black stone etched in dark silver like iron with eyes of ruby that glinted in the light. Behind the throne a large Targaryen banner had been hung, a field of black with the scarlet three headed dragon in the center. She paused to catch her breath. Viseryon, Rhaegal, and Drogon. It was her 3 children surrounding her on her throne. Her heart ached for Viseryon and Rhaegal and as she stepped slowly up the steps to sit on her Dragon Throne, she heard the cries of Drogon somewhere flying over the city and she knew he felt her feelings too. She reached the chair and brought her hands down to touch the dragon heads on the arm rests, a single tear falling down her cheek. _Home. Wherever her dragons were, that was home._ She sighed and turned to sit on her throne.

Daario and Kinvara had knelt again. She smiled and told them to rise, thanking them for all they had done in preparation for her return. She had never known what home meant to her aside from the house with the red door and the lemon tree outside her window. But those were distant memories she could barely even recall. She had never truly known what home was to her. But this felt as close to it as she could imagine. "Now, shall I tell you all about my journey across the Narrow Sea?" she asked. Her tiredness dissipated at the thought of sharing her journey with them. As harrowing as its events were, she felt she was among friends and it would bring a welcome respite from the thoughts that haunted her. She felt something here she had never felt in Westeros. Was it love? At the very least it was respect. Here, where she was respected and remembered for the good things she had done, she had not been perfect, she had made mistakes but here there was love, not only fear. "Only if it pleases your Grace," Daario said sitting down on the stone steps before her. Dany nodded.

"Shall we begin?" she said with a smile.


End file.
